


Like father like son

by Enide_Dear



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, This is just crack, also I'm not saying they're golddiggers, but at some point Aragorn and Gandalf had to negotiate with Mirkwood, but there's nothing but trees and spiders and extremely handsome elves in mirkwood, how do they get money to buy wine?, the question is, to keep Gollum lockedup, what did Thranduil get in return?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-29
Updated: 2018-07-29
Packaged: 2019-06-18 03:04:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15476238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Enide_Dear/pseuds/Enide_Dear
Summary: Gandalf needs to keep Golum securely locked up and Mirkwood seems the safest place to do so. But Thranduil might prove too harsh a negotiator. It's a good thing Aragorn is hitting it off so well with the elven Prince.





	Like father like son

”Normally,” Thranduil sighed wearily and briefly rested his forehead in his hand, “when people come with courtship gifts for my son, they bring jewels or gold. Wine may do in a pinch. Flowers, even. But what, pray tell me Mithrandir, is that?!”

He gestured expressively at the pile of skin and bones at Mithrandir’s feet, a pile that was wailing insistently and frantically trying to loosen the fetters around its frog-like feet and hands. Aragorn felt himself flush red up to his ear and opened his mouth to protest vehemently, but Gandalf’s annoyed gesture made him bite his tongue. A sharp glance at the presumed eligible elven Prince standing next to his fathers throne made it clear that he was trying his best not to burst into laughter.

“This is Aragorn, son of Arathorn….” Gandalf started, but was interrupted by a kingly murmur that still carried thanks to the carefully wrought acoustics of the great cave:

“Really? I always thought he’d be taller.”

Gollum wailed. From somewhere behind Aragorn, an elven guard couldn’t contain a snigger. The elf prince’s eyes watered and he was careful not to meet anyone’s eyes while his lips twitched with merriment.

Gandalf closed his eyes and seemed to count slowly to ten in his mind before continuing as if he hadn’t been interrupted.

“Aragorn, son of Arathorn, who has aided me in tracking down this wretched creature. It is called Gollum, and we would ask for your and your peoples aid in keeping him safe here, locked up until we can find the means to help him.”

“So you are not brining an unwashed suitor and a very inappropriate courtship gift to my throne?” Thranduil looked up, silvery eyebrows raised.

“No.” Gandalf said through half-gritted teeth.

“Why not?”

“I…what?” Completely off guard, the wizard stared up at the elf king. Aragorn had not been aware that the human face could sustain such temperatures as his was right now. The elf prince was losing his battle to keep his composure, tears of laughter running down his cheeks at the sight of the perplexed wizard.

“Well, if you think our dungeons are good enough for your catch, is not my catch good enough for you dunedáin?”

“I am not here as a marriage consultant!” Losing patience, Gandalf knocked his staff to the floor, sending sparks flying across the hall. At his feet, Gollum wailed even higher. “I am here to ask if you are willing to aid us for the sake of Middle Earth!”

“Why us?” Leaning back on the throne, Thranduil observed them like a lazy put-upon cat. “Ask the White Council. Ask your….friends.”

“Where would Elrond keep him? In his library? And he cannot stay in Lothlorien, the mere presence of such blessed realm and powerful elves….” Gandalf’s voice died away as he realized what he’d said and although it was almost too subtle to see, Aragorn noticed the shift in posture as if Thranduil was about to throw himself at the wizard and throttle him.

The elf prince’s whole body was shaking now, small noises of suppressed laughter escaping him.

“Yes?” Thranduil said, sweet as honey. “What were you saying my lands were not?”

“…what do you want?” Gandalf sighed, deflating like a balloon as he realized how defeated he was. “As long as it is not the virtue of my travel companion.” He added muttering.

“Oh? Are you offering yourself?” In a great theatrical show of taking the offer seriously, King Thranduil leaned over to look at his near hysterical with laughter son. “You are a bit older than is proper, but he does have an unfortunate affection for beards…..”

By now the whole cave hall was echoing with elven snickering and laughter that Thranduil pretended not to hear. Gandalf’s face was almost as red as Aragorns had been.

“Will you please. For the sake of Arda. Take this seriously!” Gandalf hissed, mortified.

“Oh, alright.” Thranduil gestured at his widely grinning Captain of the Guards. “Tauriel, see to it that this creature is taken to the dungeons. No, not that one,” he added hastily as Tauriel reached for the leach in Aragorn’s hand. “I am assuming Mithrandir meant the one who has actually washed his hair once or twice in his life.”

That did it for the prince; he fell over himself laughing and the Captain was not much better at it as she dragged the still wailing Gollum away. Aragorn felt like he might just jump off a bridge to end his suffering rather than follow Gandalf and the King into negotiations. He was both utterly relieved and offended when Thranduil beckoned to his son, who was still wiping tears from his eyes.

“If you would take this Aragorn son of Arathorn and make sure he is refreshed and preferably hosed down while I speak to Mithrandir of proper repayment for our aid, I would be most grateful.”

“Of…of course, Ada.” Taking a few breaths to compose himself from his all but apoplectic laughter, the prince turned to Aragorn with a brilliant smile.

“I am Legolas Thranduilion, please follow me.”

Immediately, Aragorn felt his hackles rise. There were no way he trusted this elf not to make as much fun of him as his father had.

But Legolas simply took his arm and led him back over the stone bridges and deeper into the maze of Mirkwood.

Once they reached a suite of comfortable rooms that must must be the prince’s own, Legolas sent for wine and food and Aragorn gratefully fell into a comfortable chair by the fire. Legolas watched him amused and politely failed to mention the greasy stains left on the upholstery by travel stained clothes and hair that hadn’t seen other than rain water for weeks and kept their conversation light and inconsequential until the refreshments arrived. 

The wine was stronger than what Aragorn was used to, but then again nothing about these elves was what he was used to.

“Your father is something else,” Aragorn finally muttered, after his second cup.

“Can you blame him?” Legolas shrugged gracefully. “Our kingdom is nothing but trees and spiders these days. We wont cut down the trees and the demand for enormous spider carcasses are limited, to put it mildly. My father has had to perfect his negotiation techniques.”

“But he will agree on keeping Gollum here? And to treat him kindly?” Wretched or not, he wouldn’t leave any creature in cruel hands. 

“Oh, he will. It’s just a matter of price. A promise of a prosperous marriage and a hefty dowry will do the trick.”

Aragorn all but spit out his wine and Legolas fell over himself laughing. It was a clear, perly laugh, bereft of any arrogance or viciousness and Aragorn couldn’t help but smile along. the prince might share his father’s joy in fooling mortals, but unlike Thranduil he had no ulterior motifs.

“You have a lot of proposals then?” He smiled, half teasing. Not that he could blame anyone; the prince was very handsome and easy going and after all, you wouldn’t even have to be the one to kill spiders in that relationship. 

“Quite a few. Some Lothlorien march wardens, a few dwarfish counts and one or two human horse lords.” He shrugged again. It made the silvery tunic he was wearing slide very smoothly over a slim chest, Aragorn couldn’t help but notice, but Legolas eyes were fixed on the fire. “Father usually bleeds them dry of whatever money or gifts they’re willing to offer and then sends them packing. There has to be standards, you know, even for a wood elf prince.”

“Dwarves?” Aragorn’s eyebrows rose. He couldn’t help it; he was enjoying the prince’s company immensely, especially as a contrast to his father. 

“I’m not even sure if they’re male or female,” Legolas made an expressive hand gesture. “I suppose that’s half the fun to find out; like opening a present.”

Aragorn laughed, despite himself and blu elven eyes danced with merriment. 

“So what would your father considered a good match for his only son?”

“Nothing short of a Maia, I fear. Probably one handing over the gems of Lasgalen as a wedding gift.” Legolas snorted. “I am doomed to a life of loneliness, unless I simply run away from home to have an adventure.” 

Aragorn didn’t even have to think that over. The wine, the comfort, the beautiful prince….

“Well,” he said slowly. “Speaking of adventures…..”

 

A few hours later, father and son shared a meal and discussed the days ventures. 

“Several of Doriath’s lost books, now housed in exile with that half-elf Elrond. I much look forward to reading them again. There’s also a small fee of gold, of course, I’m not keeping that creature here without payment. And Gandalf promised to help me re-establish trade routes with the Lonely Mountain. I foresee some prosperous ventures in the future.” Thranduil looked pleased and Legolas nodded. 

“A standing invitation to Imladris and a promise to join in the Fellowship. Not much as yet, but a perfect chance to make some valuable connections.” He rose an eyebrow. “Not the least with the heir of Gondor himself of course.”

“Oh? You have something particular in mind then, my son?” Thranduil smiled. It would not be the first time his son’s ‘innocence’ had lured in a great boon. 

Legolas smiled. In that moment he was so alike his father that Aragorn would have run for the hills, had he seen it. 

“Why Imladris, of course. Why settle for less?”

“Oh, challenging me are you?” Thranduil laughed and rose his glass. “To profit, then.”

King and Prince saluted each other with the wine. The present might be dark and full of spiders, but the future was looking bright indeed.

**Author's Note:**

> I really want to write a fic that is just a series of letters between Legolas and Thranduil, about their exploits as golddiggers (very sfw, they are just stringing people along to get money and and gifts) but I'm stuck. If anyone has the time and interest to help me out, I would be most grateful.


End file.
